


OneShot: Forgotten

by Sol_Vikar



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Control Ending, Marauders, Mass Effect - Freeform, Other, Turians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Vikar/pseuds/Sol_Vikar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick thing I thought of while musing what happened to all the beings who were corrupted by the Reapers after the Control Ending. Some of my OC's are mentioned as well as other peoples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	OneShot: Forgotten

I was a leader of Troops.

 

Steadfast in my commitment to my troopers, firm in my faith to the Hierarchy, ruthless to my enemies.  I proudly carried the banner of my people into battle time and time again, with a steely resolve in my eye and Die for the Cause swelling my chest with a fervor unmatched.  My troops would die for me.  And I them.

 

There's a steady droning noise that's increasing in intensity as I stand amongst others in corner of an alley.  It’s raining again.  Drops of water smear my lenses, causing ghostly halos to appear around the status lights of the being in front of me.  It gently sways, but is otherwise immobile.  We all exhibit this behavior; standing like a small herd in some out of the way corner of society at large.

 

I can vividly recall being in other places.  Serving beside, over, and under other people.  I can recall their names, their faces, their voices.  The memories are photo realistic, replayable, unmovable.  I cannot forget anything now, and I cannot change those memories.  Memories of Trident, Taetrus, of The Citadel, of Earth.

 

I recall grassy fields and laughter as my younger brother and sister chase me through the fields of Trident.  Sol pouring every bit of himself into his effort and just barely managing to tag me before peeling off and cackling madly as Jaa becomes the next target of our frantic game of tag.

 

Sol…. I can still see his hazel eyes from under the bed as father reaches back to strike me.  I remember smiling defiantly up at the broken man before winking at the onyx plating cowering under the bed.  I won’t give him up.  He will escape father's drunken madness tonight.  Jaa is in the next room trying to ignore the loud slap of leather to hide as she arranges her dolls and fusses with their tea set.

 

A barefaced mercenaries glare through lightning and rain as we stand off against one another.  Her light blue eyes like tongues of blue flame.  I can still feel  the percussion of her shotgun firing over me as I was dragged to safety.

 

Honoria… A fiery spirit I came to trust and love as if my own kin. I replay the instant before she headbutted me once in a gym with a sense of perverse shame.  I was so stupid and ignorant then. Unable to see past the labels placed on such people.

  


The mundane dealings of the Embassy on Earth.  Jeratuls cracked and ancient plating regarding me in amusement as I bring Claudia to work.  Ventrus halfheartedly hitting on the human woman in an effort to get a rise out of me.

 

Claudia… I can still feel her pulse falter and still in my arms as I was permitted some control of myself in that moment that emotion overpowered The Presence in my head.

The droning noise reaches a crescendo as lights sweep over us.  We all cower fractionally and reach out for instructions.  Yet again we are told to not interfere unless a life is at stake.  The Presence of Shepard briefly becomes overwhelming, causing some to shudder and fidget briefly.  I can feel all of my sensors being scrutinized as the situation is considered, debated and decided on.  All in less than a millisecond.  The transcended humans conscious flits away, probably to deal with a situation elsewhere in the galaxy.

 

I can hear the door of an Aircar open and close.  It has a distinctive squeak when it closes, meaning it's the same aircar that has come once a day every day for the past month.  I notice one of us stop swaying and turn towards the small figure approaching cautiously.  The steady rain shows no sign of abating any time soon, causing the small figure to shield her still developing fringe and eyes as she approached one of us.

 

The being in question steps out from out from our milling huddle and looks down, glowing blue eye sensors sweeping over the turian girl as if conducting a sweep of a potentially dangerous item.  I can sense all of us still even more, sensors passively drinking in every detail to be evaluated, replayed and savored later.

 

We all typically shut our consciousness off during such periods of inactivity, but this little girl has kept us from blissful oblivion -so starved are we for interaction with the “living.”

 

She reaches out to steel and tubes, still as fearful and cautious as the first time.  

 

I can recall what touch feels like.  In fact I have over 4.56 billion data points of different types and pressures, combinations and configurations. Both good and bad.  But the memories feel like something viewed through a glass case.  I can conceptually comprehend them, and associate it was me who lived them.  But it still feels like a separate person.

 

Small fingers wrap around the finger of the Wanted one.  We all give encouragement to the being and share in our jealously on separate channels.  It pipes the sensor data of the exact amount of pressure being exerted, ambient temperature of the childs hand, and heart rate back out.  We collectively shudder as each of us tries to break the glass case of memories and force the data to meld with the memory of a lovers touch, a loved ones embrace, a friendly slap on the back.  Anything.

 

I can see Claudia in my mind's eye, reaching up whispering that she forgives me and still loves me. Her hand makes contact with my swollen and mutilated cheek plate on that hellish battlefield back on Earth.  It is at that point I try to merge the data with memory.  It feels like a cheap facade.

 

The Wanted One is now shielding the girl from the rain as she looks up at it.  Its optical sensor clusters dim, leaving only two active so as to help comfort the girl.  It wears a necklace it managed to keep when it had been Captain Teegan Ferkan, Hierarchy 314 Light Infantry regiment . It’s a simple chain with a locket on it.  It could never get it open to see the pictures inside, and had declined out eager offers to help.   

  

“I missed you daddy.  Mommy still won’t come to see you.  I’m sorry.”  A tiny voice sounds in the darkness as we all pretend to not be paying attention.

 

But we are all doing the same thing; reliving the moment our memories were corrupted and stolen.  The moment we were torn apart and were made anew.  The moment we all became Marauders.       

 

 


End file.
